Dignity in Fear
by Xtremebass
Summary: Hermione is tired of being the trio's conscious, and finds respite with someone unexpected. Set during OotP, a few days after Harry's arrival at the safe-house. Rated M for later chapters. Eventual Femslash!
1. The Power of Music

Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Author's Note: Made a few changes to original OotP plot, including, but not limited to:

-Hermione, Ron and Harry are allowed into the Order's meetings

-Many Order members reside at 12 Grimmauld Place

Enjoy!

Dignity in Fear

Hermione liked to drink tea, preferably at 3 in the morning, when most of the inhabitants of 12 Grimmauld Place -at least those that weren't off on assignment- were already in their rooms. At that hour she had room to breathe and, lulled by the constant creaking of the settling house and the mutterings of Kreacher, actually allow herself to relax. These days both of those necessities were in short supply.

Hermione sat down heavily at the kitchen table, groaned loudly and stared glassy-eyed into the murky depths of her mug. A thin layer of dust was already decorating the surface of the steaming liquid, but she took a hearty swig anyways before running a hand through her hair. Ron and Harry were probably already snoring heartily away in their room; she had no idea how they could do it. Falling asleep was the first item on a long list of things Hermione had no ability to do after five hours of Order business. She could still hear Mad-Eye Moody pounding his fist on the table repeatedly, trying to bring order to the….Order.

Hermione giggled, drunk with exhaustion and frayed nerves.

Crookshanks, who had been sleeping on a musty blanket folded next to the kitchen hearth, stretched languidly and jumped on the table, grumbling and snuffing hopefully in the direction of her mug. She considered shooing him away, but came to the conclusion that she didn't care. As Crookshanks settled down to lap at the tea, Hermione found it strangely thrilling to not care about something. Seemed like all she did lately was care, worry and feel responsible; about everything; and everyone. She was bursting with it. Between the war, and Harry's constant drama, Hermione hadn't done anything purely for herself in, well, she didn't know how long. She had been the serious, studious, overthinking, bloody **parent** of the two idiots slumbering happily upstairs since she met them. She cocked an ear in the direction of the stairs out of habit to see if Harry was having another nightmare. But having already jumped off the ledge of **not caring** once, and finding it agreeable, she decided to once again **not care**.

"Gits." she grumbled, doggedly leaning back in her chair to rest her head against the wall, arms hanging limply at her sides. She stared up at the ceiling and watched dust fall slowly through the floorboards as some Order member wandered sleepily towards the bathroom. _The Bathroom. It has a tub_. Hermione's hand came up to swipe at the back of her neck, _Ew. _She wished, not for the first time, that the wizarding world would accept the highly convenient Muggle invention: the common, household shower. Though a bath called to her, she was not able to fill the enormous claw-foot tub herself, since she was still under aged.

A door creaked upstairs, sending another snow of dust drifting onto Hermione's shoulders. The clock on the mantle chimed the half hour. Kreacher grumbled in the cupboard under the sink. Crookshanks yawned and licked his lips. Hermione closed her eyes, legs stretched out, head lolling against the bricks, arms still dangling numbly at her sides. The night sounds of the house were strangely comforting, the quiet comings and goings of the inhabitants becoming a part of a natural rhythm. Like a living organism, this house.

An unfamiliar sound permeated the walls, making Hermione jump, eyes popping blearily open. From somewhere upstairs a muffled rhythm, a haunting voice..."What the…" Hermione sat up, ears cocked, confusion showing in the lines of her face. Rising slowly from her seat, she edged around the table and tip-toed towards the stairs, as if the subdued rhythm would blink out of existence if she moved too quickly. She recognized the sound, had heard it somewhere, but it was flicking just out of reach as she softly climbed the stairs. Pausing on the landing of the second floor, Hermione scanned the bedroom doors, listening. Determining that the third floor was a better bet, she climbed again, instinctively avoiding the creaky boards. On the third floor were Fred and George's room, Harry and Ron's room, and her and Ginny's room. At the end of the hall… _Tonks._ She hadn't even known that the witch was at home. She hadn't been at dinner, nor at the endless after-dinner planning session. It wasn't unusual, sometimes after particularly strenuous missions members would disappear into their spaces for a day.

Hermione swiftly crossed to Tonks' door, carefully putting her ear to the wooden panel. A faint light glowed around the edges of the door, as from a shuttered lamp. From here she could plainly hear the rough voice of Janis Joplin soulfully crooning "Summertime", a particular favorite of Hermione's father. Before she could think too much about it, curiosity overran caution and she knocked on the scratched surface. "Tonks? You in there?" Hermione listened for a second, and then tried the door handle, finding it unlocked. Bored, exhausted, and inquisitive, she took her chances and stuck her head into the room.

Hermione had never seen the inside of the Tonks' room. For that matter, she hadn't seen the inside of most rooms in 12 Grimmauld Place. In a world where there was so little time for personal space, the members of the Order seemed to try their hardest to give privacy where it could be given; if it could be given at all.

Tonks' room was softly lit by an array of colorful candles, illuminating a messy jar of quills, open ink bottles, and rolls of parchment on a table against the far wall. Her bed was unmade, the old brass bedframe just as tarnished and bent as hers, with black satin sheets and a plaid quilt over the top. Tonks' Comet 260 leaned against the wall behind the door and a trunk at the end of the bed overflowed with clothes, many obviously muddy or wet. Hermione's eyes were drawn to the walls as she stepped further into the room; they were strewn with old Muggle band posters: The Clash, Sex Pistols, Crass, Buzzcocks, Dead Kennedy's; also The Beatles, Janis Joplin, and Joan Jett. The window was open, and was obviously the source of the music. Taking one more look around, Hermione headed towards the window. Putting her hands on the sill, she leaned out into the night air "Tonks? Oh!" She flinched, not expecting to find the witch sitting on the fire escape _There__'__s a fire escape out here?_

"'mione!" Tonks exclaimed, obviously startled. Her cropped hair flashed a dusky purple before returning to its usual bubblegum pink. The witch had a lit cigarette held between the pointer and thumb of her left hand, and her wand stuck out the top of her muddy boot. The small radio sitting on the grating under the window to "Crimson and Clover" by Joan Jett, another song from Hermione's memories in the Muggle world. "I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Tonks reached out, as if to turn off the radio.

"No! No it's okay, leave it on. I hadn't gone to bed yet." Hermione replied, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. "When did you get back?" she blinked owlishly, eyes adjusting to the dark.

Tonks took a drag of her cigarette, face glowing in the light from the ember. "I got back just a while ago, while you guys were at supper." She exhaled through her nose, briefly enveloping Hermione in the smell of fresh tobacco. "I caught Mad-Eye Moody while he was grabbing something from his room, briefed him and told him I was knackered. Been out here ever since." She smiled, cocking an eyebrow at Hermione's awkward position in the window. "Come on out, join me" She said, indicating the empty space next to her.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder, briefly considering her silent dusty vigil downstairs, but swung her leg over the sill and accepted the heavy cloak Tonks held out to her. It smelled of tobacco, old beer and the slightest hint of fire; that smell you get in the back of your nose when you directly intake the heat of a flame. It was delicious, warm, and very much unexpected, and she quickly burrowed into it.

Hermione hadn't spent a lot of time alone with the metamorphmagus. Due to Tonks' abilities she was often on assignment. When she was "at home", she was often bright and funny, entertaining the glum Order. Just the other night she had spent all dinner sporting a hog's nose and large rabbit ears, much to the chagrin of Molly Weasley. Hermione had quickly ascertained that the flamboyant witch was both inexorably flirtatious and intensely clumsy. Tonks had caught Hermione staring interestedly at her upon their first meeting, and had winked coyly at her, making Hermione blush fiercely. Later the same night Tonks had managed to not only knock over her own mug of beer, but also break two plates while helping with the dishes. Everything about Nymphadora Tonks quietly intrigued Hermione, she wasn't like any of the other witches or wizards she had ever met. She was refreshing.

Tonks snubbed out her cigarette on the grating and settled more comfortably against the bricks. "You like Janis?" She inquired.

Hermione jumped, shaking herself out of the comfortable fog she had found herself in "Huh?" she said.

"Janis. Janis Joplin? The song that was playing?" Tonks gestured teasingly towards the radio, which was now softly playing something unfamiliar, but still pleasant.

"Oh! Yeah, I love Janis. And Joan Jett. My parents always listened to them when I was growing up." Hermione blushed, playing with the studs that lined the zipper of Tonks' cloak.

Tonks chuckled and scooted closer, "Ya, my dad introduced me to a lot of Muggle music when I was growing up. He was Muggle-born, like you." She smirked at Hermione's blatant shock. "I even went to a few Muggle concerts when I was growing up. I saw Joan Jett, the Sex Pistols, and a few others. I stopped after I once got a little too far into my cups and ended up scaring the Merlin out of a group of Muggles." She laughed, a contagious, throaty sound that Hermione couldn't help but chuckle along with. "Luckily, the Muggles were on some serious drugs at the time, and a person suddenly turning into a mutant creature before their eyes wasn't too far out of the question. Since my morphing doesn't register to the Ministry as _using _magic, they never knew about it" She paused theatrically, holding her breath. "As an afterthought, you probably shouldn't tell the Order any of that. Could possibly lose my job." The last part was whispered out of the corner of her mouth, eyes rolling teasingly.

Hermione burst out laughing. It felt so good, she laughed until her ribs hurt. "These lips are sealed." She panted, smiling at the older witch, who she found was smiling warmly back at her from only six inches away, their shoulders touching. Hermione's breath hitched, the scent of beer and tobacco, flame and flesh, swirling in her exhausted brain. _Tonks is beautiful_ She leaned back against the wall and pulled the cloak more firmly around her neck, hiding the moment in busy movement. "So, we have a fire escape?" Hermione suddenly inquired.

Tonks chuckled low in her throat and pulled her wand out of her boot, fiddling with it. "Well, we do now." Hermione cocked her eyebrow. "Old Grimmauld Place can get to be a bit much. Sometimes it's nice to sit outside." Tonks said, shrugging her shoulders and biting back a yawn.

Hermione could have stayed right there, surrounded by the soothing warmth of Tonks' cloak, until dawn. It was so nice to just sit and talk to someone, especially another woman, who wasn't expecting her to have all the answers to all of the problems, but Tonks looked like she was fading fast, and Hermione needed to find her own bed. She stirred and moved to stand, levering herself up stiffly. "We should both get to bed, it must be around 4 AM." Hermione said, suddenly extremely tired herself.

Tonks rubbed her eyes and put out a hand, which Hermione took and helped the older witch to her feet. Standing face to face, Tonks was slightly taller than Hermione, but only just.

"Yeah I should probably hit the sheets. But you should come out here again with me sometime. We can listen to some music and unwind a bit." She smiled again. Even sleepy, it was impish, reckless, and completely radiant. Hermione's head spun.

"Let's do that." Hermione said distractedly, turning to climb back through the window. The two witches shared a warm, slightly flirtatious (Tonks), slightly shy (Hermione) good-night before Hermione headed down the hall towards the room she and Ginny shared, the light from the room blinking out as Tonks shut the door. It was only when Hermione went to change for bed that she realized that she still wore Tonks' cloak, the smell of beer and tobacco and fire still warming her skin.


	2. The Morning After

**I own nothing!**

**Please enjoy :)**

The next day the entire house was rousted from bed by Molly Weasley, who was bent on continuing the chore of cleaning the house. Yawning Order members wended their way towards the kitchen in various degrees of dress. Wizard dressing gowns were often particularly shabby affairs, with baroque patterns and faded colors. Arthur Weasley sported such a horrendously well-loved specimen, complete with faded yellow fringe and capering hippogryphs, that Hermione couldn't help choking on her toast at breakfast. As Ron was helpfully, and painfully, pounding her on the back, Tonks sauntered in, cocked a dark eyebrow at the spluttering witch, and accepted a steaming mug of strong tea from Molly. Hermione took a large swallow of her pumpkin juice, noting out of the corner of her eye that Tonks was not sporting a dressing gown like the majority of the older Order members save Mad-Eye, who like always was fully dressed, right down to his muddy cloak and boots. Instead Tonks was wearing an oversized long-sleeved thermal and a pair of men's fuzzy PJ pants; her pink hair was sleep-tousled and at the moment barely three inches long.

"Mornin'" Tonks said with her usual vigor, sitting down at the table next to Ron, who had gone back to shoveling bacon and eggs into his mouth with utter abandon.

Hermione smiled over Ron's head "Morning Tonks. Did you sleep well?" The older witch gratefully accepted her own plate from Molly, piled high with breakfast fare, and turned back to Hermione.

"Oh yeah, slept great. Not nearly enough though, eh Molly?" Tonks teased, inciting a motherly nudge from Mrs. Weasley as she passed by on the way to Arthur's empty tea mug.

"Getting you lot moving in the morning is nothing compared to Fred and George when they were younger. Couldn't move them from their beds with a _Locomotor_ spell." Molly intoned, once again bustling back towards the kitchen. According to Arthur Weasley, when Molly was fretting she became the quintessential mother hen, firmly taking everyone in sight under her wing and feeding them. With force if necessary. "It's best if you just let her get on with it," Arthur had whispered to her a few nights ago, after Molly had stomped through the quiet study and magicked all the disordered and dusty books back onto their shelves with a flick of her wand. The wind from the volumes flying past her and Arthurs heads had been so intense that it took minutes for Hermione to reorganize her hair. When she had resettled herself in the armchair, she found a steaming cup of tea on the side table, with one of her favorite biscuits. Mother hen indeed.

As Molly was magicking the dishes clean-and fending off Tonks' offer to help-, Hermione, Ron, and Harry got up from the table to attend to a pixie nest that Sirius had found in the basement the day before.

"Oh, hey Hermione" Tonks said around a final mouthful of toast, grabbing for the younger witch's sleeve and nearly tripping over her own feet, "you have my cloak in your room, yeah?"

Hermione paused, keenly aware of the interested looks directed at her from Harry and Ron. She could practically feel the questions building pressure in their heads. She turned to face Tonks' heady smile, "Yeah, it's at the end of my bed, I forgot to give it back to you last night. You want me to bring it to you?" Hermione tried to sound matter-of-fact, the noise level in the room had dropped suddenly.

"Nah, I'll just grab it, you got pixies to deal with," Tonks said, poking her shoulder mischievously.

Hermione smiled back, and turned, purposefully walking between Harry and Ron to break their identical expressions of confusion.

"Since when do you hang out with Tonks? Harry asked as they clambered down the stairs to the basement.

Ron reached the bottom of the stairs and turned to face Hermione, who was still maintaining a blank face. "She's kind of, you know, a bit odd," Ron said, earning a glare from Hermione, who stalked off into the shadows of the basement. Ron looked to Harry, flabbergasted. "It's the animal noses, is all."

Hermione continued to say nothing.


	3. Running a Bath

**Once again, I own nothing.**

**And as always, enjoy!**

Hermione stomped upstairs, too incensed to care who heard her. It had taken the entire afternoon to clear out the "small pixie nest" in the basement that Sirius had mentioned, due to the rules against under-17's using magic outside of school. Armed with cages, bait and wooden bats, the three of them had gotten thoroughly chewed up. At one point Ron had nearly gotten a finger bitten off after heroically charging empty-handed at the nest mother, who had been sizing up Hermione. Afterwards, Ron had headed right to the study to get fussed over by Mrs. Weasley, and Harry had gotten sucked into the anxious codling as well. Hermione had slipped away as soon as the three of them surfaced from the basement; she could feel that Mad-Eye Moody was gearing up for another long Order meeting, but she was making a bee-line -with a short stop for a towel- towards that glorious claw-foot tub. All she wanted was 30 minutes, though she knew that half of it would be spent filling the tub "the Muggle way" as Mr. Weasley would phrase it.

Rounding the landing on the third floor, Hermione stalked heedlessly towards the bathroom, colliding head-on with Tonks.

Hermione squeaked in surprise as Tonks' hair flashed violet purple, "Oh! Merlin, I'm so sorry T-"

Tonks chuckled and took a deep breathe, leaning on Hermione for support as her heartbeat slowed and her hair flushed pink again. "You gotta stop surprising me like this," she teased, before taking in Hermione's disheveled appearance and fresh pixie bites. "Hey, you alright?" Tonks inquired, trying to catch the younger witch's eyes.

Hermione's poise ruptured. "Ron almost got his finger bitten off and Harry is being all -all- heroic! He won't talk to us about anything, like we don't know, couldn't possibly know. Merlin's Beard the two of them are helpless and You-Know-Who is out there and sometimes I just -wonder- if I wasn't around whether they would still be wandering the third floor corridor at Hogwarts, lost on their way to charms! And Ron, he almost got his finger -bitten- off, by a -pixie-," Hermione paused for breath, holding her pointer finger in front of Tonks' eyes for effect. "And he keeps blundering around with his big puppy eyes expecting me to fall in -love-. He's-he's like my brother, Tonks and I don't know how to let him down." Hermione fizzled into silence, the merest hint of tears glistening in the corners of her eyes.

Tonks shrugged bemusedly and put a hand on Hermione's shoulder, squeezing warmly, "Sounds about right." Glancing down at the towel clenched tightly in Hermione's fist, she asked, "You want me to fill the bath for you?"

Hermione looked up into Tonks' eyes, they were dark blue and inescapably kind. She sniffed and squared her shoulders, straightening her shirtfront, "Yes that would be lovely. Thank you" She said with dignity.

Tonks squeezed Hermione's shoulder again, then returned to the bathroom and with a gesture filled the tub to the brim, the water steaming invitingly. Screwing up her face in mock-concentration, she summoned a washing cloth and soap from the cabinet in the hall.

Unlike other people -Harry and Ron- Hermione was never fooled by Tonks' lighthearted foolery. The older witch was an Auror, had been hand-picked by Mad-Eye Moody a year ago and had since dueled with dozens of Death Eaters, and come away whole. Behind the clumsiness was an incredible store of power that firmly warranted her seat in the Order.

"There ya go," Tonks said, bowing theatrically to Hermione, who couldn't help but smile, just a little. Tonks straightened and moved towards the door, "Nice and hot" she intoned, winking fiendishly at Hermione, who immediately flushed.

"Thank you," Hermione said, fiddling with a stray thread on her towel.

Tonks leaned on the door jam, all smiles "Anytime. If you're up for it after the meeting, I have some music I think you would like." Not waiting for a response, she suddenly disapparated.

Hermione blinked, before softly closing the bathroom door and turning towards a much-earned bath.

As it happened, the Order meeting went so late, due to Harry's upcoming trial at the Ministry, that Hermione barely made it into her PJ's before collapsing into her bed.

Around four in the morning, Tonks was shaken awake by Mad-Eye Moody. A report of strange activity had come in; strange enough that it couldn't wait. As the sleepy witch blundered around her room, trying her hardest to be quiet but still succeeding in dropping her broom -twice-, she quickly scrawled a messy note on a scrap of parchment and sent it winging away with a flick of her wand. Finally, she pulled on her boots over dreadfully mismatched socks and threw on her heavy cloak, inhaling deeply at the collar where a faint scent of rose soap and ink lingered. Smiling, she grabbed her broom and headed downstairs, and out into the night.

When Hermione awoke the next morning, she found a splotched and barely legible note resting on her bedside table. Ginny eyed her curiously as she sat up and pushed her hair out of her face, holding the note in the light from the dusty window.

"Is it from Ron?" Ginny eagerly threw her sheets back, ready to explode into gossip-mode.

Hermione grinned, tucking the note into the dusty copy of _The Ministry of Magic, a History: Vol. 68_ that sat next to her bed. "God no. It's just a note from Harry about something he wants me to look up. For his hearing." She added hastily, at Ginny's raised eyebrow and pursed lips. "I'm gonna grab the washroom before the boys get in there. Have you ever noticed how long Ron takes to get ready?" Hermione babbled, grabbing her clothes and slipping out the door before Ginny could pry further.

As she tackled Mrs. Weasley's endless list of chores, accompanied by a constant barrage of angst from Harry, and oafishness from Ron, the note kept popping into her thoughts, making her smile at inopportune moments.

"Hermione-

Mad-Eye needs me to go check something out. Will be back, in one piece -large ink splotch- have not forgotten I promised you music. Can use fire escape while gone. Do not maim Ron, nor Harry, before return.

Stay whole,

Tonks.


	4. Hermione Worries

**You know the drill, but just remember how little I own (I own nothing!)**

**:) *enjoy***

As supper time arrived without any sign of Tonks, Hermione started to fidget. It wasn't anything particularly abnormal; sometimes assignments took days to complete, she reminded herself again as Fred and George apparated into the kitchen with a loud '_crack'_, making her jump and look to make sure it wasn't the pink-haired Auror.

When they all sat down at the table, Hermione found herself in the middle of a dozen cross-table conversations, none of which she felt like participating in. Molly was yelling at Fred and George –again- about the responsible use of magic, which the twins were avidly ignoring by talking loudly across the table at Harry and Ron about their latest scheme. Harry was switching between moodily staring into his potato soup, and gazing longingly at Ginny from behind his shaggy bangs, while Ginny's pink cheeks attested to the fact that she had noticed Harry's stare, but was now loudly arguing with Fred about the morality of selling puking pastilles to first years. Ron, his mouth completely full of soup-soaked bread, was recounting the afternoon's trials cleaning the attic to Sirius, who was obviously attempting to have a sobering conversation with Remus and Arthur. Arthur was trying his hardest to hide behind the _Daily Prophet_, to no avail. Hermione kept her head down, and brooded over her soup.

It wasn't like she thought that Tonks was incapable of defending herself, exactly the opposite. The truth of the matter was that Tonks had come and gone from 12 Grimmauld Place multiple times during Hermione's stay, and had always come back whole; but her absence had never felt this _stressful_ before. It was like her inner compass had been stuck on the woman ever since that night on the fire escape.

Shaking off the sensory memory of Tonks' cloak wrapped tightly around her, heavy and irresistible, Hermione appeased Molly -who had been attempting to give her seconds- with a smile and excused herself from the table. Spending some time with the massive collection of books in the study would be sufficient to calm her nerves, but she quickly changed course when she saw Mad-Eye Moody slouched over an enormous tome, his dinner set neatly on the table next to him. The last thing she needed was more talk about You-Know-Who.

She was being silly, the whole thing was just _silly_. When Tonks did return, she would probably report that she had spent a few days trailing an innocuous wizard after they had bought something suspicious at Borgin and Burkes for their nephew's collection.

"There's _nothing_ to worry about" she muttered to herself, as she often did when her head started to get that buzzing, over-stuffed feeling, and sluggishly started to climb the stairs towards the third floor. Upon reaching the landing, she automatically swung towards her bedroom, but paused with her hand on the knob when Tonks' door at the end of the hall caught her eye.

Hermione walked over and hesitated, looking back over her shoulder and listening hard for the tread of anyone coming upstairs, before ducking inside.

Now that she was in the dark of Tonks' room, she shook her head in anxious disbelief. She could not believe that she was actually in here. She should just turn around and go to bed, Tonks would probably be back by the time she got up.

She. Was. Being. Ridiculous.

But there was that smell, that smell that screamed _Tonks_. It slid against her like silk, and before she knew it the knot in her chest had eased, and she could breathe. Hermione blinked in the dark, something new beginning to actualize in a dusty compartment of her conscious, but before the thought could fully form, there was a loud '_bang'_ from downstairs, followed by the screeching of the portrait of Walburga Black, Sirius's mother, in the entryway.

Before Hermione could think twice, she was outside in the hallway, gripping the stair bannister and straining to distinguish the tangle of voices beneath the shrieking of the portrait. She could clearly hear Sirius bellowing at the visage of his mother, and she couldn't mistake Mad-Eye's guttural growl for anyone else in the house; she closed her eyes and listened, barely breathing.

"I'm so sorry! I swear I can't walk through this door without setting the old thing off," Hermione's grip on the bannister loosened at the sound of Tonks' rough cadence.

"I swear Tonks, it's a miracle you ever passed your Auror exams" Lupin chastised, though any response was quickly overrun by a babble of voices, which moved towards the kitchen.

Hermione let out a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and strode into her room to continue her literary explorations of the Ministry of Magic.


	5. Duck

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**I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's a long one!**

**I own nothing**

Hermione didn't know why she was sitting alone in her room when all she wanted to do was go downstairs and see Tonks. At the very least she was interested in the news that the witch may have brought. For any other member of the Order she would be downstairs. If it were Ron or Harry or Ginny, there would be hugging involved. But the thought of hugging Tonks, being that –close- to her, coupled with the half-formed thought she'd had in the witch's room, gave her the feeling of being very high up and sensing she was about to slip. Exhilarating, in a sweaty-palms, stomach falling out your ass sort of way.

She snapped her book shut in frustration, rising to pace the length of her room, her hair beginning to fluff out of its ties.

She was still being ridiculous. So what if she was developing –deep breath- _feelings_ for Tonks? Between the stress of You-Know-Who's return, Harry's Ministry trial, and Ron's crush, it was surprising that she hadn't found someone to attach to sooner. The fact that Tonks was a woman didn't bother her as much as the fact that she had feelings at all. Feelings were the last thing she needed right now, she had everyone else's to worry about.

Anyways, her neighbors growing up had been two women, and they were perfectly normal. Also, she had read Books. You could never under value a well-rounded education.

Pausing her pacing, she checked herself in the cracked wall-mirror and made up her mind. She would stop being ridiculous and let herself have her feelings. Eventually, they would go away, as they usually did. It was harmless, and the whole Order knew that Lupin had his eye set on Tonks, there wasn't any way you could miss it, he was almost as bad as Ron. Though Lupin was much better at brooding about it than Ron was.

Re-taming her hair, she picked up her book from the floor and was carefully setting it on her bedside table when someone knocked a lilting rhythm on her door. Figuring it was Harry and Ron, she absently opened it, snapping into alertness when it turned out to be Tonks, mud-covered and drenched, with her broom slung over her shoulder and a small rucksack at her belt. As always, she was grinning.

"Hey, Ron said he thought you were up here," Tonks said, wiping mud off her cheek with an equally muddy sleeve, creating a broader swath of muck on her face, "you're good at cleaning spells, ya?" the corner of her mouth was twitching between a smile and barely suppressed laughter, an embarrassed shade of pink coloring her cheeks behind the mud.

Hermione blinked, realizing that she had been staring at the blush on Tonks' cheeks, and stuttered out "Yes, I'm pretty good."

"Would you mind helping me then?" Her eyes glinted in the light from the gas lamps.

Hermione, her chest feeling annoyingly tight, nodded and pulled her wand out of her sweater pocket, thinking the other witch wanted it done right there.

"Hold up," Tonks smiled, turning suddenly towards her bedroom and nearly hitting Hermione in the face with the foot-stands of her broom, "come to my room, I need to change and put my shit down" she said over her shoulder.

Hermione, still holding her wand, followed at a safe distance from the dripping, muddy mess of the broom, and tried to calm the flush creeping up her neck as she stepped into the witch's room for the second time that night. With her heart racing, she quickly sat down on the bed.

"Thanks for giving me a hand. I'm starving, but Molly won't let me near the kitchen looking like this and I'm completely hopeless with these spells." Tonks set down her bag, which squelched unpleasantly, and leaned her broom against the wall, chuckling to herself, "Believe it or not, I hit a duck."

Hermione guffawed, "You _what_?" she choked out, watching Tonks pull off her boots, revealing thread-bare mismatched socks.

"Yeah, it came out of nowhere and hit me in the face, and I guess I was really not paying attention because I fell off into a drainage ditch about a half mile from here."

Hermione couldn't help it, she burst into uncontrollable laughter, her nerves completely forgotten.

With her eyes happily glued to Hermione, Tonks peeled off her fingerless gloves and dropped them on the floor, followed by her cloak, hoody and soggy thermal.

Hermione sat up, still hiccupping slightly, and met Tonks' dark eyes, which were sparkling with mischief; she was standing a few feet from the bed, her pink hair damp and mussed with mud, stripped down to black canvas knee-length pants over tights and a striped undershirt. She wasn't wearing a bra.

"I didn't know you have tattoos," Hermione stammered, all of the nerves piling back onto her chest like a mound of bricks.

"I got a few" Tonks smirked. It was an understatement, her entire right arm was covered in whorls of color that disappeared behind her tank top. There were also scars; a large, knotted one roped over her left shoulder, another one under her collar bone looked more like a puncture wound.

Hermione cleared her throat, flustered. "So, want me to, uh?" She gestured towards the dirt on the other witch's face.

"Oh! Oh yeah" Tonks ran her hand through her short hair, showering her bare shoulders in a dusting of drying muck, and one brown downy feather, which they both watched float to the floor. Tonks met Hermione's eyes with an ironic shrug.

Hermione stood, smiling indulgently "Come here" she said quietly. Brandishing her wand, she slowly circled the older witch, whispering the words for the scouring and hot-air charms. As the mud and water lifted from Tonks' skin, Hermione felt the air between them buzz. She could smell Tonks, that same mixture of tobacco, beer and heat that made her feel dizzy. Both of them were completely quiet, and as Hermione circled around to Tonks' front, she gathered her nerves and looked up, to find the other woman staring at her from under her lashes, grinning impishly. Hermione swallowed hard and blushed furiously.

Tonks tilted her head, eyeing Hermione. There was heat in her gaze, and it crackled along Hermione's skin like electricity, setting her chest on fire with the effort to continue breathing steadily.

Feeling light-headed, Hermione broke eye contact and determinedly bent to pick up Tonks' cloak from the pile at their feet, "Your tattoos, they're Muggle-made." She choked out, desperately trying to keep everything together as she began to scour and dry the cloak.

Tonks didn't respond right away, after a beat or two she cleared her throat "Uh, yeah, I don't like wizarding tats." Her voice was rougher than usual, strained and quiet. She ran her hand through her hair and grabbed a pouch of tobacco and rolling papers off the table before pushing open the window and sitting down on the sill. As Hermione finished the clothes, she moved on to the broom, sneaking a look at Tonks, who was trying very hard to roll a cigarette but mostly managing to dust the floorboards with twists of tobacco.

"Why?" Hermione carefully inquired.

Tonks stuck her completed cigarette between her lips and flicked her fingers over the tip, instantly igniting it. "Well, for one thing, Muggle tattoos stay put. I don't like things wiggling on my skin. Gives me the creeps." She said lightly, exhaling out the window. Her glib attitude did not quite reach her eyes.

Hermione returned the broom to its place behind the door and quietly sat down on the bed, facing the older witch. To Hermione, Tonks suddenly seemed exposed, assailable and unguarded. "Do they mean anything special to you?" She asked, genuinely interested.

Tonks fiddled with her necklace, "No, not really. I mean, I like the designs, but I mostly got them because they uh, stay," she gestured to herself with her cigarette.

For a second Hermione was confused, then it hit her. "Oh! Like, when you morph?"

Tonks nodded, looking Hermione in the eye for the first time since the heady moment a few minutes previous. "It's nice to have something that sticks around. You can lose yourself, when you can just change your reflection when you want to. Or when you don't mean to." She exhaled heavily, momentarily obscuring herself in a cloud of smoke. She suddenly chuckled with a sardonic edge, "When I was growing up, the first thing that most folks wanted to know when they figured out I was a metamorphmagus was what I _really_ look like." She turned to Hermione and stared, like she was daring her to ask the same.

"But that's silly," Hermione said, reassuringly meeting the other witch's gaze. "You started morphing the moment you were born, right? Your 'true form' is whatever you are, in that moment. You probably have a form that you will relax into, like when you die, but otherwise you flow with your emotions. You're liquid." She paused, taking a deep breath and fiddling with the end of her sweater. "Plus, it's always you. Your eyes change color, but they're always yours." This last was said quieter, gentler.

Tonks became still, her cigarette slowly burning down between her thumb and pointer finger, and Hermione felt that she could see into the core of the other woman; all of her walls were down, and she was utterly vulnerable.

An insistent knock on the door shook both of them into action. Tonks quickly stubbed out her cigarette and pulled on her clean hoody; Hermione stood and smoothed her sweater, once again gathering her wits as the door cracked open and Lupin stuck his head around the door.

"Oh, I, uh, Molly set aside some soup for you Tonks. I was just going to grab some tea and wondered if you, -clears throat- wanted to join me?" He looked harried and overdrawn, though he was obviously trying his hardest to be cheery and hopeful.

Tonks smiled, her wicked gleam returning in force, and held her belly, "Gods, I am starved. I'll be along in a sec, okay?" Lupin nodded awkwardly, flicking his eyes to Hermione one more time before he retreated, closing the door softly.

As soon as Lupin's footsteps retreated down the stairs, Tonks burst into a rasping giggle, resignedly turning her eyes to the ceiling. "Oh, Lupin, Lupin" she shook her head, still chuckling softly. "He's almost worse than Ron."

Hermione frowned, "You don't return his feelings?" She asked as Tonks grabbed her cloak off the floor and hung it on a hook near the table.

Tonks laughed, "Nah, I love Remus, but not in that way." She turned to face Hermione, "A few years ago we got sloshed and had one night that neither of us remember very well." Hermione's jaw dropped. "And now he is trying very hard to love me, but he's just afraid of himself." Tonks said over her shoulder as she looked in the mirror and adjusted her hair.

"Being a werewolf would be pretty scary." Hermione intoned, trying to make sense of what the other witch was getting at.

Tonks turned, gleefully smirking, "It's not the werewolf thing that's got him so afraid, though that is reason enough to keep him up at night. Lupin is gay, he's been boning with Sirius in secret ever since Harry's dad died. He's just going after me because he thinks I'm in the closet too, and we can like, hide out together."

Hermione's eyes went wide, frozen in shock, and spluttered out the first thing that came to her mind, "Are you? In the closet, I mean."

Tonks sauntered over to Hermione, a wicked gleam in her eyes. "No, I'm not in the closet." She said, winking seductively.

Just as Hermione's cheeks began to burn, Tonks wrapped her in a tight hug, and she found her nose pressed deliciously to the skin of the other woman's neck. She inhaled, her brain fizzing and popping with the headiness of having Tonks' body pressed to hers, lithe and strong. She felt for sure that the other woman could feel her heart hammering wildly behind her ribs as she closed her eyes in bliss, returning the hug and unconsciously spreading her fingers out on Tonks' back.

Tonks purred, a sound that Hermione felt more than heard. "Thank you," The older witch whispered earnestly into Hermione's ear, before she placed a searing, delicate kiss on Hermione's throat.

Hermione gasped, heart in her gullet, as Tonks pulled out of the embrace and locked eyes with her. The older witch moved towards the door, sending one last wink her way before she slipped out, and was gone.

Hermione stood, dizzy and consumed with liquid desire.

She really needed to go and read some more books.


	6. Tea and Talks

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The entire next day was spent removing a large, purple encrusting mold from an abandoned linen closet on the first floor that hissed at whomever walked by. The knowledge of Harry's Ministry trial the following morning hung over Hermione, Ron, and Harry as they scraped and pried at the crust, which growled and tried to crawl sluggishly into the corners.

Hermione kept stealing glances at Harry, trying to ascertain his stability. Ron had whispered to her that morning that Harry had tossed and sweated all night, plagued by nightmares. She sighed and briefly massaged her forehead, thinking back to her own restless night; Ginny had retired to bed with hardly a word, leaving Hermione to stare resolutely at the chipped plaster wall, stubbornly fighting the urge to touch the spot on her neck where Tonks' lips had set her skin alight. By the time dawn had broken, she had been so worked up she didn't know if she wanted to cry, get angry, or run down the hall and crawl into the other woman's bed. Either way, Tonks hadn't made an appearance yet, presumably she was holed up in her room working on Order business, and Hermione desperately wanted to see her.

"You alright?" Ron was looking at her quizzically, a crumb of mold slowly edging its way across his cheek.

Hermione attacked the mold viciously, "I'm just –_chip_- fine –_crack_- Ron." Just for good measure she shot him a _look_, one of the ones that made Ron look like he had just been forced to cuddle with an Acromantula.

Harry wrenched a large chunk off the wall and dropped it into his bucket, peering moodily at them from behind his bangs. He hadn't said a single word all day.

So, the day progressed. Hermione's heart leapt into her throat every time someone came down the stairs. Harry continued to brood so deeply that snowflakes dusted the floorboards around his knees as he hacked at the mold. Ron, tight-lipped and pale, tentatively tried to start a conversation, glancing from one glowering face to another, before retiring into silence.

Hermione's mind was whirling. The memory of Tonks' body pressed against her, and the touch of those lips on her pulse-point, were dogging her thoughts relentlessly. Her skin felt sensitive, like her nerves were straining to pick up the other woman's presence, and it was driving her mad. She wished Tonks' would come out of her room, she just needed to see her; hear her voice, be near her. She was craving her, craving that smell, that touch, those eyes.

She _wanted_.

When Tonks didn't show up at the supper table either, Hermione finally gave in and made an excuse to go upstairs; but when she found herself standing in the hallway, staring at Tonks' door with her heart pounding horridly, she couldn't knock. What in Merlin's name was she doing? What would she say? Maybe she should have brought up a plate of food, at least then she would have an excuse to be there besides "Hey, will you hug me again?" Maybe the older witch had been in her room all day because she didn't want to see her.

"Tonks is really awesome, you know." Hermione whirled around to find Ginny standing in the hall behind her.

Hermione cleared her throat and habitually smoothed the front of her shirt, trying to formulate a coherent response, but Ginny walked towards her and put her hand on Hermione's arm

"For the record, I think you two would be really good for one another." Ginny said. Hermione pulled back, planning to laugh disbelievingly and say something witty, but when her eyes met Ginny's, her stomach flipped and reality hit her gut like a brick.

Ginny's hand tightened on her arm as she exhaled heavily and closed her eyes, shoulders slumping.

"Come on, I'll get some tea and we can talk." Ginny said, as she gently guided Hermione into their room, and closed the door behind them.

They talked for hours, sitting side-by-side on Hermione's bed, drinking cup after cup of tea. Hermione railed, gesticulated, cried, whispered, and paced while Ginny listened. At the end, Ginny drained her last cup of tea and set the mug on the side table, then gently slid her legs out from under Hermione's head, removed the other witch's shoes and shocks, and pulled a blanket over her, before clicking off the lights and falling face-first into her own bed.

Hermione awoke, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and sat up. The darkness of the room disconcerted her; hadn't she fallen asleep with the lights on? And why was she still in her clothes? What was that noise? She paused, listening intently. When the sleepy fog in her brain finally cleared, she realized she was hearing muffled music. The conversation with Ginny slammed back into her conscious, her heart leaping into her throat.

_Tonks_. She needed to see her.

She threw back the covers and slipped out the door, padded right up to Tonks' door -where light still shown around the frame- and knocked. Only when she heard the creak of bed springs and the pad of bare feet approaching the door did her heart stop.

As the knob turned, she very nearly turned and bolted back to her room, but then there was Tonks, clad in a crumpled black racerback and plaid sweatpants, tousled pink hair and sparkling eyes.

Hermione's gaze was glued to the other woman's lips, which were moving, saying something, but it was lost to her as the air rushed in her lungs, filling her, making her lightheaded.

She _needed_.

Stepping into Tonks' space, she threaded her fingers into the warm, smoky witch's hair and pulled her close, bodies touching, and kissed her.


	7. Tobacco, Beer and Fire

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Kissing Tonks was the most terrifyingly visceral thing she had ever experienced.

For half a second, Hermione thought Tonks was going to push her away; the older witch's body had been stiff in surprise, reeling back slightly at Hermione's sudden invasion of her space. But then Tonks' hands had come up to cup Hermione's hips, and she was suddenly the one being kissed, with her back pressed firmly against the doorframe. Tonks had been drinking fire-whiskey, the previously reviled taste now making Hermione shudder, a consuming heat settling low in her stomach.

Just as Hermione was tightening her grip on Tonks' hair, which was literally beginning to curl between her fingers, Tonks gently pulled back, breaking the kiss. Hermione could feel the other woman's breath caressing her cheek, the smell of fire-whiskey and Tonks' skin making her knees weak, but as she slowly raised her eyes to look into the other witch's swirling dark eyes, the air was stolen from her lungs.

She had just _kissed_ Tonks.

_Fuck_.

Tonks didn't look angry though.

"Hermione Granger, you surprise me." Tonks' voice was rough, so low in her chest that Hermione felt the words vibrate against her own.

She couldn't speak, her lungs were so constricted with panic. She managed to nod her head, her eyes once again glued to the other witch's lips. She couldn't meet Tonks' eyes, they burned with something that made her body ache in a completely overwhelming way.

Tonks gently let go of Hermione's hips and stepped back, leaving her leaning heavily against the doorframe. Tonks' chuckled, glanced quickly down the dark hall and ran a visibly shaking hand through her hair –now a startlingly bright shade of pink-.

Hermione watched her from under her lashes, a swarm of butterflies beating their wings against her ribcage. She felt incredibly vulnerable, and closed her eyes tightly, fighting back the prickle of tears.

A warm hand gingerly brushed the hair from her face and cupped her cheek, and Hermione leaned into the touch, desperate for reassurance.

"Want to come in?" Tonks asked. Hermione slowly opened her eyes to find the other woman smiling warmly. The butterflies in Hermione's stomach calmed a little and she nodded her head mutely. It was unbelievable how badly she wanted to fall into that smile.

Hermione followed Tonks into the room and perched nervously on the edge of Tonks' bed, where a nest of pillows and blankets was surrounded by a ring of parchment maps, letters and scrawled lists. Tonks' wand, a bottle of amber liquid, a mug, plate of toast and a cracked ink bottle sat on the bedside table, illuminated by the candles on the table near the window. The small radio on the windowsill was on, the volume too low to catch the lyrics to the song.

She was trying her hardest to sit straight and steel herself for a long "careful let-down" speech. After all, Tonks was older than her, and an important Order member. No matter what she thought she had seen in Tonks' eyes after the kiss, she was sure she had been mistaken.

Tonks sat down next to her and took a sip from the bottle, offering it to Hermione. In any other situation, Hermione would have vociferously declined, but the game had changed and she no longer knew the rules, so she took the bottle and gently sipped, the fire whiskey burning her throat.

Scratching her nose idly, Tonks turned to Hermione, "Do you make a habit of kissing people at one in the morning?" Tonks' demeanor was light and teasing, the mischievous twinkle returning to her eyes in force as Hermione stared dumbly at her. "I mean, I'm really not complaining, though the thought of who else you might be kissing" –Hermione smacked Tonks on the arm, hard-"is a bit concerning, considering the company in this house."

Hermione smacked Tonks' arm again, and stood, her face flushed with indignation. She didn't know if the other woman was making fun of her or not, but she couldn't stand for it. "I do _not_ go around kissing people. In fact, I don't kiss people _in general_ so whatever you may be thinking about me-"

Tonks sat up and grabbed Hermione's hand, suddenly earnest. "No Hermione, that's not it."

Hermione folded her free hand across her chest, protective. "Then what _did_ you mean?" she inquired guardedly.

Tonks folded Hermione's hand in both of hers, warm and safe. "I was just surprised, Hermione. And you were so anxious, I was trying to tell you that I wasn't angry."

Hermione glared at the other woman, reluctant to let it go, but when Tonks stood and opened her arms in invitation with her eyes once again open and bottomless, Hermione couldn't help but sigh and step into the embrace, her head coming to rest on Tonks' shoulder. With Tonks' arms around her, all of the clamoring in her brain ceased. There was no Voldemort. There was no war. Only Tonks.

"I really liked it." Tonks whispered, tucking Hermione even further into the embrace, "I mean, _really_ liked it." The heat in Tonks' voice made Hermione flush; when Tonks placed a kiss on the top of her head, it felt like all the bones had been jinxed from her knees. "Does it bother you, that I'm a woman?" Tonks asked.

Hermione paused for a second. She could already sense that these feelings for Tonks were not going to disappear in a few days, like she had originally thought. But did it bother her? She was uneasy, but it was more directed at the situation in general than Tonks' sex. She shook her head 'no.' Even if she was a bit thrown-off, she would figure it all out.

Tonks pulled back, looking Hermione in the eyes, "Even so, no pressure okay? I really like you, but this is absolutely in your control. Whatever you want this to be."

Hermione brushed her hair behind her ear, feeling shy and a bit overwhelmed. What in Merlin's name was she going to tell Harry? And Ron. Oh Merlin, Ron…

Tonks disengaged from the embrace and picked up her wand, flicking it in the direction of the radio to change the song; she then began shuffling all of the papers on the bed into a pile, leaving Hermione staring at the sensual flex of the muscles in Tonks' back.

Suddenly Hermione realized that she recognized the song that was playing. "Really? The Indigo Girls?" "Kid Fears" was playing, a song she had heard on the Muggle radio while in the car with her parents.

Tonks smirked over her shoulder as she ambled to the desk and deposited the papers, "Oh hell yes, I love 'em. You wouldn't believe who introduced me to them though." Tonks was laughing to herself, clearly anticipating the big reveal.

Hermione once again sat down on the bed, this time making herself comfortable among the pillows, which wafted delicious clouds of scent that made Hermione want to burrow into them. "Who was it?" Hermione obliged, interested.

Tonks turned to the bed, but got her foot caught in the pile of clothes spilling from her trunk and tripped, catching herself before her knees hit the floor. She looked so sheepish, wiping her dusty hands on her PJ pants and rolling her eyes that Hermione giggled. Completing her journey to the bed, she crawled up next to Hermione and pulled the satin sheets over her legs.

"I first heard this song in the office of Minerva McGonagall, my third year at Hogwarts" Tonks drawled. "She had dragged me into her office after catching me for the millionth time using my morphing abilities to get up to no good."

"But, you were in Hufflepuff, right? Why was Professor McGonagall disciplining you?" Hermione inquired, her brows furrowed with interest.

"Well, for one thing, Minerva knows a thing or two about transfiguration" Tonks teased, making Hermione color prettily. Tonks took Hermione's hand, squeezing gently before she continued. "After watching me fumble my way through two years, and for the most part making a fool out of myself, she took somewhat of a special interest in me. Told me off so bad that first night, for being such a git with my ability, that I thought I was going to get expelled. Turns out she just wanted me to get my head out of my arse." Tonks chuckled. "I was the only metamorphmagus at Hogwarts, for the most part none of the students had ever met one and of course there was the usual mix of fascination, fear and stupidity that gathers around that sort of thing."

Hermione's brow furrowed even further. "You mean, you were bullied?" She asked.

Tonks shrugged, "A bit. Some of it was warranted; I really was a git back then. But I don't know, some of it stung. I didn't have a lot of friends, people were suspicious. The girls hated me, because I could just up and change my appearance whenever I wanted, and the boys either thought I was weird, or wanted to be around me _because_ I could morph. Which was just creepy."

Hermione huffed in disgust. "The utter stupidity of people…"

Tonks once again shrugged. "I don't know, as I said, some of it was warranted. During my later years at Hogwarts I can't deny that I occasionally used my ability to my advantage. Use your imagination Hermione, if you can think of it, I probably did it." Tonks said flippantly at Hermione's sharply quirked eyebrow. "But I haven't used it that way in a long time. Minerva took me in, told me I could become an Auror, and helped me stop being an idiot. It was her suggestion, actually, to get the tattoos. At that point I was so pissed off all the time I was in danger of _actually_ getting expelled. Luckily I managed to get my shit together by fifth year, and did well on my O.W.L.'s and the rest is history. But I _did_ first hear the Indigo Girls in her office."

Tonks gazed lovingly at Hermione, who yawned widely, covering her mouth with a modest hand. Quickly, before Hermione's eyes opened from the yawn, Tonks swooped in and kissed her, the momentum carrying them both down to lie on the bed, with Tonks' torso lying heavily on Hermione's chest.

Hermione couldn't help it, a low moan rumbled in her throat as her body arched instinctively into Tonks' weight, a molten ache settling between her thighs, making her roll her hips, legs pressed tightly together. Tonks' elbows were on either side of her shoulders, she felt overcome, held, putting 'vulnerable' in a whole new, exposing light.

Tonks bit Hermione's lower lip lightly between her teeth, and made that same purring noise she had made when they hugged the night before. They lay there, both panting heavily, inhaling each other's air, the inches between their lips crackling with need.

But not tonight.

Hermione ran her finger tips over Tonks' lips, anxiously clinging to the moment. She knew that once she left the sanctuary of Tonks' room, all of the clamor in her brain, all of the complications, all of the worries, would come flooding back. She worried that reality would get in the way of –everything-.

"I should get to bed." Hermione whispered, the anxiety leaking into her voice.

Tonks nodded, still breathing hard, but suddenly climbed over Hermione and off the bed to shuffle through her trunk. Hermione sat up, fixing her hair and watched as Tonks found what she was looking for and came back, holding a shirt out to Hermione.

As Hermione took it and looked at it –it was her Twisted Sisters T-shirt-, Tonks leaned in and whispered in Hermione's ear.

"This will not disappear with the dawn."

Later, when Hermione was back in her own bed, with Ginny's snores to keep her company, she held the soft fabric of the shirt to her nose and inhaled, Tonks' subtle concoction of smells lulling her into a deep, dreamless sleep.


	8. Girl-Time

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**I am sorry that it took me so long to get this out, and I am sorry that it is short. Personal-life explosion. I plan on updating more often.**

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When Hermione awoke the next morning, Ginny was sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed, smiling over the rim of a steaming mug of tea. Tonks' shirt was still clutched possessively against Hermione's chest.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, her smirk giving away that she knew perfectly well what it was.

Hermione sat up, blushing furiously.

"Tell me. Everything." Ginny settled herself further onto Hermione's bed, eagerly sipping her tea. A similar mug sat on the bedside table.

Hermione's brain finally clicked into gear. "Wait, has Harry already left for the -?"

Ginny's eyes widened, and she silently flailed a hand at Hermione, hissing between her teeth. "Yes, he's left. Everyone is in a right _state_, and I don't want to think about it. Distract me." She demanded, a small wave of tea sloshing onto the quilt. When Hermione didn't immediately launch into a play-by-play, Ginny sighed and set down her tea, taking Hermione's hand in hers. "I heard you leave the room last night, and mom says that Tonks looked really tired at the breakfast table this morning. Apparently she even begged off doing night-duty tomorrow night. Did she kiss you? Was it awesome?" She whispered, leaning closer.

Hermione fumbled for words, avoiding Ginny's eyes. After a few false starts she exhaled loudly and shielded her eyes, a rosy smirk overtaking her tight-lipped expression.

"Actually, I kissed her." Hermione mumbled, fighting back a giddy laugh that was trying to bubble from her chest.

As Ginny whooped with glee, Hermione tucked Tonks' T-shirt under her pillow, smiling inwardly at the flutter of butterflies in her gut. She knew she should be downstairs, joining in the anxious vigil that was undoubtedly occurring in the kitchen, but she desperately wanted to have this moment with Ginny. Occasionally it was nice to not be "one of the boys." Settling further into her blankets, she picked up the mug of tea on her nightstand and recounted for Ginny what had happened in Tonks' room the night before, with a few of the most blush-worthy details left out.

"So, are you two going out now?" Ginny asked.

Hermione paused, her mug halfway to her lips. "I –I have no idea. I don't think so? I mean, with You-Know-Who and everything, and the Order. I mean, we're all going back to Hogwarts soon." A distressing thought popped into her head, "Ginny, please don't tell anyone. I mean _anyone_. I don't know if this would get Tonks in trouble. And your mom would have a heart attack." Hermione stumbled to a halt. "Oh Merlin, your mom would have a _heart attack_."

Ginny squeezed Hermione's hand, "I won't, it's between you and Tonks, really. But, are you going to tell Harry and Ron?"

Hermione choked on her tea, "NO, absolutely not. They would be _insufferable_."

Ginny nodded, a smirk stealing onto her face, "So, a woman, huh? That must be rather mind-boggling. Unless you have known -?"

Hermione shrugged, not exactly sure how to respond. She had gone out with Viktor, but it was mostly out of spite. Viktor had been large, quiet, and unquestionably manly in a way that assured the boys' silence on the matter for at least another year. Kissing him had been bearable, at its best only mildly tingle-worthy; kissing Tonks had been like being set on fire.

"What about sex?" Ginny suddenly said, absent-mindedly considering the tea leaves at the bottom of her mug.

Hermione blanched. "Why? What about it? I don't even know if Tonks would want to. Surely she would. I don't know. At some point." She tucked her hair behind her ear, not meeting Ginny's curious eyes. "I have read books you know." She firmly stated.

Ginny, eyebrow arched, considered.

The sound of the front door opening, followed by voices raised in apparent revelry, cut the heady silence from the lower floors. At the sound of Mr. Weasley's voice, Ginny and Hermione leapt off the bed, eager to hear the verdict of Harry's trial.


	9. Hermione Dreams

**Hello all!**

**Here might be the chapter that you all are waiting for, though it isn't EVERYTHING that you have been waiting for (that wouldn't be any fun), but call it an early Christmas present to all of you. I hope you enjoy!**

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**And just as a side-note, yes, I AM a woman, and a lesbian, so I know what I am talking about when it comes to this stuff.**

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Ginny's almost-convincingly-innocent utterance of the word "sex" –in connection with Tonks- left Hermione glass-eyed and distracted the rest of the day. The memory of Tonks' weight pushing her into the mattress, pining her, stealing the breath right from her chest, and that wildfire-heat, curling and licking at that deep place in her belly, tightening in a way that not so much hinted as _screamed_ exactly where she really _needed_ Tonks to be.

And that had just been kissing. Some more –advanced- kissing, for sure, but nonetheless, not even a shirt had come off.

Hermione would have given almost anything just for the chance to see Tonks' smile that day, but unfortunately she was out on Order business all day, and wasn't due back until late that night. After spending the day furthering Molly's vendetta against the House of Black with Harry and Ron, Hermione settled on the massive tattered couch in the study, proclaiming loudly that she wanted to get some reading done; in all reality, she just wanted to wait up for Tonks. She felt rather foolish, as the large mantle-clock ticked away the minutes, like she had turned into one of those squealing, love-deranged girls that she detested listening to in the Gryffindor common room. But she sat and waited all the same, as the clock slowly ticked her into an unwilling sleep.

Hermione dreamed. A warm hand cupped her hip, swirls of color disappearing up the wrist as the fingers caressed her skin, pulling her gently back to rest against the swell of small breasts, Tonks' soft lips touching the sensitive place behind her ear, making her arch her back and reach to thread her fingers eagerly into sweat-spiked pink hair. She could see their breath, though it wasn't cold, swirling in the air like smoke, obscuring their forms as Tonks' hand slipped into the front of Hermione's jeans.

"There you go, love. I got you." Tonks' voice was thick, husky, dripping. Hermione leaned further back into Tonks' arms, reveling in the strength of the other woman's body, yearning to turn around so she could see her, tease her, make her cheeks flush and her breath hitch. She could feel Tonks' nipples hard against her shoulder blades. She wanted to feel them on her tongue. Tonks bit down hard on Hermione's pulse-point, the hot flow of blood freed from her skin mirroring the aching wet between her thighs. She felt no pain, in this dream, only Tonks, whose fingers had found her clit, the swirling center of her ache. Hermione moaned deep in her chest, turning her head to bury her nose in Tonks' neck, the smells of tobacco and beer and sweat and fire and –wet- urging her to push her hips into Tonks' hand. More pressure. More contact. _More_.

"I got you." Tonks' voice was barely audible, the words slipping into Hermione's ear like silk, like the words were one with the liquid feel of Tonks' fingers sliding down, down, down to play at her core, fingertips barely pushing at her. Her nerves were raw, so sensitive and alive that the smallest pressure sparked stars in her vision. She was wound up so far she didn't know if she could come down, she didn't know how, was completely lost in the clench of her belly, the strain for contact, the run of cum down her thighs, pooling in the cup of Tonks' palm.

Tonks' fingers pushed past her, into her, cut her open. "Come to me, love. _Come to me_." Tonks purred, moving mountains with the slightest curl of a finger, pushing back against the strain of Hermione's need, and Hermione came to Tonks, screaming, and Tonks caught her.

Hermione snapped awake. Crookshanks had jumped on her and was now busily kneading a spot on her jeans, his claws sinking painfully through the fabric to catch at her skin. Shooing him away, Hermione sat up and impulsively ran her hand through her hair, blushing fiercely with the memory of her dream, and the feel of incredibly damp knickers. She must have been asleep for a few hours; someone had thrown a blanket over her and the sky was beginning to lighten behind the thick velvet curtains, bathing the room in cold light. Settling back on the couch, she pulled the blanket higher, intending to get some more sleep, but when something much larger than Crookshanks shifted on the far end of the couch, she sat up. Fast asleep on the other side of the couch was Tonks, sound asleep with her knees against her chest, toes sticking out of holes in her mismatched socks, wrapped tightly in her heavy cloak.

**As an end note! I have been getting so many amazing reviews, I would love some more. I promise, the more reviews I get, the faster the next chapter will come out! And it isn't one that you would want to wait for, if you get my meaning.**


	10. Ginny Doesn't want Rumors

**Hello all! I hope you had wonderful holidays. I did, for the most part. Here is the result of some rest and recuperation! I hope you all enjoy it, I sure enjoyed writing it, if you get my meaning ;)**

**As usual, I own nothing.**

**Thank you to all of you who have been reviewing! Keep them coming! If anyone has some **_**constructive**_** criticism, send it my way! I want to know what you guys really think here.**

**Enjoy!**

That morning Hermione learned the first rule of flirting with Aurors: Awaken with care.

When Hermione kneeled down next to Tonks, she noticed that her hair was tinted more towards auburn, her angular features relaxed in sleep, before she reached out and touched the sleeping witch's shoulder where it curved under the wrapping of her cloak.

Tonks came off the couch like she was spring-loaded, knocking Hermione backwards onto the carpet with a feral growl. Hermione squeaked as Tonks landed fully on top of her, knocking the breath from her lungs. One of Tonks' hands held the back of Hermione's head, a near-caress, if not for the wand jammed into the crease of Hermione's neck. Hermione's heart hammered fit to burst her chest.

The two witches stared at one another. The clock ticked once, twice, three times, then Tonks scrambled off Hermione, sitting down hard with her back to the couch. She was pale and shaking as Hermione sat up, a hand to the spot on her neck where Tonks' wand had been pressed. If Tonks had been a real threat, Hermione wouldn't have even had the time to reach for her wand. It had never been more apparent to her that there was a big difference between knowing spells, and being capable, and willing, to use them.

"Have you ever killed someone?" Hermione blurted, before her brain caught up with her racing heart. "Oh Merlin, don't answer that. It's none of my business. I'm so sorry, I didn't think. I'm sorry" Hermione moved to rise, embarrassment and adrenaline making her pale cheeks splotched with red.

"Come here." Tonks said. Hermione met the other witch's eyes. Tonks' face was pale, but her strikingly-blue eyes were pleading, her mouth set in a slim effort at a smile. When Hermione turned and moved to sit on the carpet next to her, she shook her head and spread her legs, patting the floor between them. The gesture drew a small smile from Hermione, as well as a warm flush when her dream popped back into her head. "Two, both Death Eaters." Tonks muttered, once Hermione had settled with her back to Tonks, the older witch's arms wrapped tightly around her. Hermione was quiet. "If it makes it any better, they were both trying their best to get me at the time. One of them nearly did. That scar on my collarbone, I mean, as an Auror-"

Hermione turned in Tonks' arms and placed a finger to her lips, silencing her. "Please, you don't have to." she whispered, barely loud enough to hear. Hermione felt unsteady, fractured, like she was in danger of floating away. Her passion for learning, Hogwarts, the war, You-Know-Who, the Aurors, her and Harry and Ron; it had all just clicked. The future career she had always envisioned for herself, the safe life in academia after graduation from Hogwarts, the whole _point_ of going to Hogwarts and learning magic, had just been slapped down, replaced by that gut-wrenchingly violent gesture from Tonks, the woman who she desperately wanted to kiss; the same woman who knew there were people who would kill her in her sleep, if they had the chance.

Tonks saw the desperation flickering in Hermione's eyes and immediately pulled her closer. She kissed her, gently at first, almost chastely, with her fingers caressing Hermione's cheek, but Hermione needed more. She needed to erase the sense-memory of being terrified of Tonks; needed to bury it; burn it; override it.

Hermione turned and straddled Tonks' lap, reveling in the feel of her thighs framing the other woman's hips. Tonks was wide-eyed and flushed, her hair turning from pink to red as Hermione wound her fingers into the short strands of hair at the nape of Tonks' neck and pulled her close for a searing kiss.

When Tonks moaned so deep in her chest that it was nearly a growl, Hermione lost her breath. When Tonks' hands came to rest on Hermione's hips, sliding briefly over her ass before slipping her thumbs under the edge of her shirt to tease at the skin above the waist of her jeans, Hermione lost control of the kiss. When Tonks pushed back, forcing their chests flush against each other, and bit gently on Hermione's lower lip, Hermione lost control of her vocal chords, moaning breathily against the other woman's mouth. When Tonks suddenly pulled back and locked eyes with her, her eyes so dark blue they were nearly black, as she smirked and dug her nails into Hermione's hipbones, holding the younger witch in place as she purposefully rolled her hips up against Hermione's sex, Hermione lost her mind.

To hell with everything and everyone. To hell with Harry and Ron and Hogwarts and the Order and You-Know-Who. Hermione yanked her shirt over her head, the small part of her brain that was still functioning crying in pain that the bra she happened to be wearing was plain and probably overdue for a wash; but with Tonks' hands firmly cupping her ass and her teeth dug into her shoulder, all Hermione could do was reach between them and tug wordlessly at the hem of Tonks' sweatshirt.

Tonks kissed her insistently, shrugging out of her sweatshirt and throwing it behind them onto the couch. When Hermione reached for the hem of Tonks' thermal, Tonks gently grabbed her hand.

"I'm not wearing a bra." Tonks whispered into Hermione's ear, her hands sliding up Hermione's stomach to run her fingertips over the swell of Hermione's breasts.

The touch was intoxicating, she could feel her clit throbbing painfully against the seam of her jeans; her mind wandered to whether Tonks' body was as ready as hers. "Really don't care" Hermione managed to hiss as Tonks sunk her teeth into her collarbone, answering Hermione's question with another insistent roll of her hips. "Like, I _really_ don't care." Hermione insisted.

Tonks smiled against Hermione's lips, tightening her hold on her ass briefly before breaking the kiss and slowly pulling her thermal over her head.

Hermione couldn't decide what she wanted to do first; trace the lines of color with her tongue that looped over Tonks' shoulder and spilled down between her breasts; play with the captivating ice-blue metal rings that pierced her nipples; or wipe that teasing smirk off Tonks' gorgeous face with another consuming kiss. The older witch's head was cocked to the side, the sparkle in her dark eyes revealing the obvious pleasure she was taking in Hermione's glazed-eye stare.

Hermione's heart fluttered, somehow feeling like she was the one being exposed, made vulnerable. She was on top, but it was Tonks who had control, and Hermione realized that she was more than fine with that. She had a form of trust in this clumsy, wild metamorphmagus that was unique to her and her only. Their eyes were locked, heavy and electric, as Tonks wrapped her arms around Hermione's waist, pulling her flush against her naked chest. Hermione wound her arms around Tonks' neck, their foreheads coming to rest against each other, the tips of their noses just touching. Tonks' breath was warm on her lips. Hermione couldn't help but grin.

Both of them jumped, hearts in their throats, when Ginny suddenly rounded the corner into the study, bare-footed and wearing nothing but a faded blue bathrobe.

"Oh! Merlin-" Ginny turned her eyes to the ceiling, looking anywhere but at Tonks and Hermione, her cheeks flushed. Hermione couldn't help but cover herself, even though Ginny had seen her in less than her bra; Tonks didn't appear to give a damn who saw her shirtless. Hermione spluttered, attempting to cover her chest, climb off Tonks' lap –which Tonks was avidly attempting to thwart- grab her shirt, and mutter apologies in Ginny's direction at the same time. Ginny flapped her hand in their direction, eyes still averted. "Shut up, just come on, it's almost time for my mom to be up."

Hermione blinked, speechless for half a second before her brain kicked into gear and she grabbed her shirt and stood, a still shirtless Tonks following, grabbing at her hand. "You're really gonna leave me like this?" Tonks was smiling wickedly, almost chuckling, but her eyes betrayed her; she wanted her, bad.

Hermione's belly clenched, she could feel that the skin of her inner thighs was slick under her jeans; she briefly entertained the idea of slipping up into Tonks' room but Molly was too terrifying. She would tear them both to shreds, if she even let Hermione come back to the house. Stepping back into Tonks' arms, Hermione drew the older witch into a desperate kiss; it felt like every drop of her blood had drained into her hips, she was burning alive, couldn't believe that she was about to leave this when all she wanted was to be dragged upstairs and –fucked-. The thought made her gasp against Tonks' lips.

Ginny cleared her throat, almost tapping her foot on the floorboards; "You know, if I get caught down here with you two in this state, who _knows_ what sort of rumors will arise!" Ginny hissed, pulling Hermione out of the embrace and down the hall, carrying Hermione's discarded shirt in a clenched fist.

Tonks groaned low in her throat, leaning against the doorjamb for support as she watched Hermione getting led down the hall. She needed a bath, and a cold one. And a cigarette. She exhaled, rather more shakily than she would like to admit, and ran her fingers through her sweaty hair. Fucking insanity. Hermione. Fucking. Granger. Wet for her. For that matter…Tonks quickly unbuttoned her black cargo pants and stuck her hand down the front. When she pulled out her hand, she peered amusedly at the strings of translucent precum that roped between her index and middle finger. Fucking hell. She was absolutely done for. Sticking her fingers absent-mindedly in her mouth, she turned back into the study and fished her shirt, sweatshirt and wand out from under the couch, knocking her head on a table in the process. A minute later, the muffled _crack_ of someone disapparating was covered by Molly's footsteps heavy on the stairs, heading towards the kitchen, and the start of a new day.

**Oh! I am **_**so sorry**_** for teasing all of you **_**again**_**! Actually, not so sorry, but do not worry, the real fun is coming very soon. Maybe the next chapter. Who knows. I don't even know yet. Review! I hope you enjoyed it.**


	11. Tension

**Hello all! I am very sorry that I have not updated in so long. Long story short, I have had a right hurricane of personal stuff, including a huge move of home-base, so I hope that the updates will come more often. Also, the plot-bunnies have been breeding like crazy in my head, but they have been screaming for other fandoms, so I have been side-tracked. But no longer!**

**The usual disclaimer, I own nothing.**

**Thank you all for your lovely reviews. Please, keep them coming! They warm my winter-chilled bones.**

**Enjoy!**

Hermione would be the first to admit that her cognitive dictionary –and companion thesaurus- was impressive. She was capable of wielding esoteric verbiage like a battle axe, and regularly honed this second line of defense –for when logic failed her- with the help of stacks upon stacks of gloriously dusty volumes. Behind the power of logic and the stronghold of her words, Hermione felt nearly _indomitable_. It was no wonder then that she found herself staring at the cracked plaster on the wall next to her bed, completely unable to sleep, when the realization hit her that there was only one word to describe her situation, and it was maddeningly elementary.

Tension.

At the breakfast table she stared at Tonks out of the corners of her eyes, breath-taking in her pajamas and rosy bedhead as she chewed toast and chatted with the others in her raspy, inordinately-sexy morning voice. When those deep, radiantly-blue eyes turned on her, she felt like she was melting; _literally_ melting, the sheer number of underwear she had gone through in the days following the night in the study was rather embarrassing. When they managed to sit next to each other at table, they pressed their knees together; Hermione had never spent so much time contemplating the feel of her knee, there were more nerve endings there than she had ever imagined. She had replayed the events of that night over and over in her mind, letting the sensations rush through her system like an IV injection of fire whiskey. There had even been one night when Tonks' phantom-touch had driven her to the bathroom floor, where she had found a quick, violent release with the older witch's shirt clenched between her teeth, muffling her whimpers and filling her head with the heady crux of her craving.

Hermione was not unfamiliar with her body, she was a healthy teenager, with a healthy desire for such activities; what she was not used to was the urgency. It tugged at her gut every time her eyes fell on Tonks. She hadn't just awoken, she had been _vivified_.

There was but one, glaring problem. Tonks had been sent on assignment with Remus and Kingsley two weeks ago, just four days after the night in the study. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred, George and she were scheduled to board the Hogwarts Express the next morning, hence the sunrise staring contest with the wall.

Tension.

There was no way she was leaving 12 Grimmauld Place without seeing Tonks again. She had half a mind to slip into the older witch's room and lay in her bed for a while, but Tonks' scent had long faded from the linens, smoke and fire replaced with gentle, dusty rose. Hermione blushed in the weak morning light at the memory of how many times in the last weeks she had slipped out her bedroom and into Tonks' bed. She had never had the courage to spend more than a few minutes there, the fear of getting caught overpowering her desire to feel close to Tonks. She wondered, as she often did, what it would be like to slip into that warm, comfortable bed when it was occupied.

Hermione turned to face away from the wall, grumbling to herself. Ginny was fast asleep on her bed across the room, arms flung wide, mouth open. Tonks had just –better- get back today. Between her midnight excursions, anxiety, the usual Order business and Harry/Ron drama, she had been sleeping horribly, she could feel a headache just beginning to balloon behind her eyes. Pulling the covers up to fend off the morning chill, she closed her eyes and tried some breathing exercises her mother had taught her after one too many anxiety attacks over school –in third grade-. Within minutes, Hermione's gentle snores joined Ginny's robust chorus.

Prefect. She had dreamed of this moment since her first year at Hogwarts, had planned and worked hard for it, and finally, she held the badge in her hand. She felt elated, but above all she finally felt a little recognized. Of course Dumbledore would bestow on her a Prefect's badge; she had saved Harry's life more than once (by her calculations, at least once a school year) and managed to keep top marks in her classes throughout. It all added up to a Prefect's badge. But Ron? That one confused her, just a little bit. And Harry…well, he had been sulking and irritable since they had unwrapped the badges that morning.

Mrs. Weasley was busy in the kitchen, whipping up a dinner for an impromptu celebration with the help of Ginny, while Ron gushed to anyone who would listen about his new broom. Boys and their brooms…Hermione rolled her eyes; she had never enjoyed flying, though the memory of Tonks swaggering into the kitchen with her broom over her shoulder, cheeks flushed from the cold and hair wind-whipped, could possibly cause her to reconsider her view on the activity. She, on the other hand, was busy checking out her new school books on her bed; it was her usual practice to at least read the first three chapters of each text before the first day of school –when she was feeling particularly ambitious, she read the entire thing-. Her mom had often said that she had an anxious nature, but Hermione preferred to think of herself as panoptic.

A swell of noise from downstairs made Hermione jump, excitement roaring in her veins at the possibility of Tonks' return. She was in the middle of a head-long sprint for the door when a _crack_ erupted behind her; she spun to face the room, hand to her hammering heart; and there was Tonks, all wolfish grin and unfathomable eyes. In three strides she had Hermione pinned against the door, stealing her breath with a scalding kiss. Hermione whimpered, burying her fingers in the front of Tonks' cloak as her knees turned to water.

Tonks withdrew a few inches, panting heavily through a bordering-on-goofy smile. Her eyes were light purple, sparkling like an amethyst. "Miss me?" Her eyes crinkled in a grin, "_Prefect_."

Hermione slapped Tonks' arm, open-mouthed with elated disbelief. As Tonks enveloped her in a blanketing hug, Hermione buried her nose in the taller witch's neck and inhaled deeply; as that scent hit her brain, every hair on her body stood on end, and the ball of lead in the pit of her stomach unfurled.

She had made it, and her tension eased.

**Hope you all enjoyed it! I enjoyed writing it! Promise, the next chapter will have what you all have been waiting SO patiently for!**

**Until next time.**


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